Autumn Years
by lordhellebore
Summary: ONE-SHOT: Age isn't being kind to Remus. He and Severus try making the best of it.


**Disclaimer:** All characters and settings of Harry Potter are the property of J.K. Rowling and her publishers. No money is being made.  
**Content:** Dementia.

* * *

When Severus enters the living room, Remus is sitting on the couch, the blanket under which he had slept pooling around his feet. He is looking straight ahead at the family pictures on the wall, a light frown on his face, and he doesn't react when Severus sits down next to him.

"Lupin."

Remus turns his head, eyes lighting up at the name, and Severus has to smile despite himself. After nearly thirty years of them being together, Remus doesn't feel addressed anymore when he uses his first name. Severus places his hand on Remus's and is rewarded with a smile in return.

"Severus."

"Yes. Come, let's get up. We'll be talking a walk together."

The air is mild this early October; rays of autumn sunlight are making the leaves shimmer like gold and a brilliant, warm shade of red. They are walking slowly, Severus's arm firmly slung around Remus's waist. He is too thin, Severus thinks not for the first time.

For a while, they sit down on a bench in the park– it's the same one they used to sit on watching Teddy play with the other children. They would run around playing catch or football, with grass in their hair, laughing and screaming.

Most of the time, Remus doesn't recognise Teddy when he visits.

Slowly, Remus's head comes to lean against Severus's shoulder. His eyes close. Sometimes, he will doze here like this for a little while. Severus doesn't mind; he is glad about every peaceful moment.

Around the bench, leaves are floating down in the soft breeze. On the swings, two girls in red dresses are laughing. Severus watches the people who pass by them. There are couples much older than them – only this year, they both turned 70.

Being a werewolf makes for a harsh life, and some, like Remus, don't weather it well. Fenrir Greyback, though older, is still strong and healthy; he embraced his curse, the wolf is a part of him. Remus, instead, has never stopped fighting. He's burnt himself out in the process, and now he is paying the price. It's a high price for refusing to become a monster.

"I can't," he had told Severus when they'd first realised what was happening. "I can't do it." Still, there would have been time to prevent it. If he'd finally surrendered to the wolf, he could have stopped it – but Severus had known that he would never do it, would never even consider it. It's not who he is.

"If you can't watch, I'll understand. I won't ask you to stay once I'm –"

Severus had shut him up with an insult. Remus had smiled the fond smile reserved only for Severus and kissed him.

Searching fingers draw Severus out of his thoughts, and he closes his own hand around them, noticing how they are shaking almost imperceptibly.

"Severus?"

"Yes."

Remus sighs; his eyes are still closed. "Where is Teddy? Shouldn't we go home now? He needs to have supper."

"It's not that late yet. Teddy is still playing. Let's wait a little longer."

There is no reply, but after several minutes, Remus sits up straighter, looking at Severus with a worried frown.

"He's an adult now, isn't he? I . . . I forgot. Why do I keep forgetting?"

Gently, Severus squeezes the hand in his, wrapping his arm firmer around Remus. "That's all right." He leans in and places a light kiss on his cheek. "I forgot my glasses on the table when we went outside."

Remus seems confused for a moment, then nods. "We're not getting younger," he says with a tentative smile.

"Indeed. Now, let's get going. I could use a nice cup of tea."

After dinner, they take a bath together. Remus only picked at his food; since they came home from their walk, he hasn't responded to anything Severus said. Now he is lying against him limply, eyes clouded, humming softly under his breath.

When Severus kisses his temple, he falls silent, smiling. "I love you," he murmurs against Severus's neck. A while later, Severus washes his hair and helps him get ready for bed.

* * *

Having brushed the soot from the fireplace out of his clothes, Teddy looks at Severus expectantly. Severus shakes his head.

"It's not a good day. It started again last night."

Teddy's face falls, but he composes himself. "I'll just see how it goes."

"All right. He is in his room; the last time I checked on him he was asleep. Remember, you shouldn't –"

"I _know_! It's been almost four years now! Merlin, why won't you . . ." Teddy trails off with a frustrated groan, covering his eyes with one hand. "I'm sorry. But sometimes . . ." He shakes his head, again falling silent.

"No." Severus steps closer, lightly placing his hand on Teddy's arm. "I am sorry. I should know better. It's just that I'm –"

"Worried about him. I know." Teddy lowers his hand, letting his eyes wander over Severus appraisingly. "I'm worried about _you_, Father. You don't look that good. Have you been sleeping?"

"Not enough," Severus has to admit, making Teddy frown. "Don't worry too much. I know I can't afford to overstrain myself. I'll ask you for help if I need it. Now, go to him."

Teddy hesitates shortly, but then he nods and makes for the living room door. A few moments later, Severus hears him open the door to what used to be the guest room.

"Dad? It's me, Teddy."

Severus sits down on the couch again, wrapping his hands around his cup and looking down into the milky tea. He is achingly tired despite the hour-long nap he took a while ago, and his eyes are burning. If Remus knows Teddy today, he might be able to sleep some more. With a yawn, he leans back against the couch, closing his eyes.

Severus starts when something touches his hands – he must have dozed off sitting. When he blinks, he sees Teddy, putting the cup he took away from him down on the coffee table. He wants to say something, sitting up straighter, but is pushed back on the couch with gentle force.

"Sleep. I'll be staying for a while."

Too exhausted to resist, Severus obeys and lies down. The last thing he notices is a woollen blanket being tucked around him.

When he wakes up again, it's almost dark outside; a look on the clock confirms that he slept for nearly three hours. On the second couch, Teddy is reading the newspaper. The inviting scent of supper is wafting into the living room from the kitchen across the corridor.

As Severus sits up, Teddy puts down the newspaper. "Better?" he asks.

Severus nods. "What about Remus?"

"I just checked again a few minutes ago. He's asleep."

"How long could you stay with him?"

Teddy makes no reply, but Severus can read the answer in his eyes, and he gets up, joining him on the other couch. Teddy won't turn to look at him. It is only now that Severus notices the bandage around his left hand – it hadn't been there when he had arrived. Carefully, he takes Teddy's wrist and unwraps it. There are bite marks on the back of his hand, deep and bloody, with uneven, frayed edges.

"Did you use the aconite disinfectant?" He knows it was the wrong thing to ask as soon as it's out, but what else can he say? How do you comfort your son when his father doesn't remember his face or how much he loved him, when he attacks him in blind animal rage?

Teddy pulls his hand away and wraps it again; when Severus places his arm around his shoulders, he tenses.

"I know," Severus murmurs.

"You don't. You still have him. He didn't just delete you from his memory as if you don't matter!"

"You do matter. When he's not like this, he talks about you almost every day." Severus tightens his grip on Teddy's shoulder, and thankfully, after a while, some of the tension seems to drain away.

"I know." Now Teddy looks up at Severus, smiling sadly. "I just wish he'd speak _to_ me instead."

There is nothing they can do. Most of the time, the wolf will accept only Severus. Remus doesn't understand speech when he is in control; any attempt to remind him that he knows Teddy would be in vain. It works sometimes when he is in his human mind, but recently, more and more often, he isn't.

This is the worst thing about what is happening. Not only did the struggle against the curse cause Remus to age prematurely, making him show signs of dementia in his sixties, when many Muggles don't yet have to deal with it, but it has also begun tearing down his defences. The barrier between man and wolf has been worn thin over the years, and now, without warning, the wolf will take over his mind, full moon or no.

Being a werewolf means more than turning into a beast once a month. Whether you fight it or accept it like Greyback, the curse will win out in the end. There is no escape.

* * *

Severus puts down the tray with supper on the coffee table. Remus isn't on the couch where Severus last left him, sleeping. Severus hadn't expected it, and yet after four years, it is still hard to see the man he loves crouched in a corner, eyeing him warily, teeth bared in a barely audible growl.

Slowly, Severus approaches, one step after the other, prepared to be attacked at any moment. He's not taken out his wand – still, he is faster than most of the Aurors who pride themselves on their skills, and even when he's the wolf Remus isn't as quick and strong as he used to be.

"Lupin. It's me, Severus." When he's arrived with Remus, he lowers himself to the floor next to him just out of touching distance. He never takes his eyes off Remus, who keeps watching his every move with narrowed, flickering eyes.

"You know me," Severus tells him. "There is no need to growl at me like this." Although the wolf doesn't understand a word he is saying, he still responds to the tone of his voice. Severus keeps talking softly, and over the minutes, the growling dies down and Remus seems to be more relaxed.

"Now, I won't be bitten when I touch you. I brought food for you that tastes much better than me."

Still Remus winces as Severus shift closer and touches his arm; he snarls – but he does not attack.

"Good. I really am not that tasty."

Again, bit by bit, the wolf calms down under soft, patient words. Severus keeps rubbing his arm until, finally, Remus leans in with a sound half sigh and half whimper, and Severus wraps his arms around him.

It doesn't always go this well; at times, the wolf will reject even him. When it goes on for days, Severus has to sedate him so he can take care at least of his most basic needs. But today is a good day. Severus Summons the food, and Remus lets himself be fed without protest – when he is the wolf, he can't use his hands, but eating without them seems to frustrate the wolf, who feels confused and out of place in a human body.

Afterwards Remus lets himself be led to the couch where he moves back into Severus's embrace without any prompting. He yawns, closing his eyes, and when Severus begins petting his hair, he is soon half asleep.

It's not only Remus's human mind that is fraying; the wolf is aging rapidly as well. Most nights of the full moon he now spends inside, resting on the couch next to Severus with his head in his lap.

"Three more days," Severus murmurs. "Then the world will make a little more sense to you again." At least for a night.

At first, Severus had resented the wolf when he had appeared out of schedule. He was stealing precious time from Remus and him. But he couldn't keep it up for long – not when he'd realised that the beast was suffering, was just as confused and helpless as Remus, with his mind breaking down and trapped in a body that isn't his. They both need Severus, and he's long found out that he needs to be needed. Now, he can't help but feel attached to the wolf as well.

Severus lowers his hand from Remus's grey hair to his cheek; Remus turns his head with a sleepy sigh and begins licking his fingers. Sometimes Severus still finds it disturbing, but today, it's all right. It is better than being growled at and bitten.

Whether he is the man or the wolf – Teddy was right: Severus still has him. He needs to appreciate that.

* * *

It's late at night. Severus doesn't know how long it's been since Remus fell asleep; he only knows that he can't sleep, although he is tired.

"Severus?"

"Yes."

Remus stirs in his arms, and when he looks at him, Severus sees in the flickering light of the candle on the bedside table that he is frowning.

"Did it happen again?"

"It did. You were the wolf for a while." It is hard to stay calm right now, not to clutch Remus close against him out of pure relief.

"How . . . how many days?"

"Eleven this time."

Remus doesn't reply for a while. Almost, Severus wishes that he won't understand.

"That's . . . more than before, isn't it?"

Severus contemplates lying. So far, the worst had been six days in a row. To hear that it's been nearly twice as long will most certainly frighten Remus – as much or more as it has Severus over the last several days. But then, he deserves the truth while he can still understand it. He would never lie to Severus about something like this.

"It is. Before, the longest time was six days."

Remus nods against Severus's chest. "It's getting worse."

He sounds calm, rational, and Severus is glad. When the wolf retreats, he'll often leave Remus more lost and confused than he normally is.

"What do you think, how long until he'll be here longer than me?"

Severus sits, pulling Remus up with him, who looks at him earnestly. He seems much clearer than usual.

"I can't say. Maybe a year. Maybe five or more. All of this hasn't happened often before. Not many werewolves . . . most aren't as brave as you."

Remus smiles crookedly. "You mean 'as bloody stubborn'."

It's what Severus would have said some years ago, and to hear it from Remus now stings terribly.

Remus's face is working; he looks as if he's thinking intently. "I remember, you know. I remember we talked about this. How long it might take. And what happens then. I . . . I might live like that for many years, isn't that right?"

"That's right. You could very well live to be one hundred." Spotting the flicker of uncertainty in Remus's eyes, Severus adds: "That's thirty years from now. You're seventy."

Remus nods. "I wasn't quite sure," he says softly. For a moment, he hesitates. "We also talked about whether I wanted to die."

Again, Severus finds it hard to stay calm. He has always known that this day might come, has always lived with the expectation that one day, while he still can, Remus might change his mind. If he asks, Severus will not deny him, even if he doesn't know how he will live with himself.

"Do you?"

For a long while, Remus says nothing. He only looks into Severus's eyes, and it hurts how lucid his own are right now. The idea of doing it is hardest in moments like this. In the end, very slowly, Remus shakes his head. "No. No, I trust you," he whispers. "I'm frightened, but I know you'll take good care of me. And I'm too selfish. I want to spend so much more time with you. Even like this."

Severus can't answer. He cups Remus's face and pulls him close for a kiss. When they break it and Remus smiles at him just how he used to, Severus knows he understands all the same.

"When I can think . . . when I know what is happening to me, I keep asking myself how I'd feel if it was the other way around. I try imagining how it must be for you."

They talked about this in the beginning, and again a few times, but Severus has always found it hard to express his emotions. Remus knew him better than he knows himself a lot of the time, and for thirty years, it had been he who'd helped him put his feelings and needs into words. Lately, with Remus's mind slipping, more and more has been left unsaid.

"Lupin, please. I don't think I can . . ."

"It's not useless what you're doing, Severus," Remus goes on, undeterred. He raises his hand, gently tracing the lines on Severus's cheeks and forehead. "I'll always need _you_, more than anyone. And I'll always love you, even when I won't know anything else anymore. I don't need to remember your name or even our life together to trust you. You're . . . home, Severus, to me and the wolf. You always will be."

So often, these days, Remus is insecure. Frightened. So often, Severus has to reassure him. Now it is Remus who wraps his arms around him, who pulls Severus's head down to rest on his shoulder.

"Always," he repeats, running his fingers through Severus's hair.

Severus closes his eyes. He feels beyond tired. He won't fall asleep, tough, not when Remus is holding and caressing him, kissing his temple every once in a while. For so many nights, this was how Remus would guide him to sleep, after the war, when dreams of pain and death had kept him awake. Back then, he had been grateful to doze off quickly. Now he doesn't want to miss one second of it.

"Severus," Remus finally murmurs.

"Hmh?"

"I'm tired. I can't . . . I don't remember what we were talking about. Only that it made you sad."

"Don't worry. I'm fine now. You helped."

"Good." Remus's stroking hand falls still, instead cupping Severus's cheek. Severus sits up, returning the kiss when he feels Remus's lips on his – they're soft and dry, his stubble lightly chafing Severus's chin. As the kiss deepens, Remus's tongue brushing his, Severus shivers. Sometimes he forgets that Remus is his lover also in this way, that he not only loves but desires him still.

Warm fingers sneak under his nightshirt, caressing his thigh, and Severus lets his hands wander as well, finding Remus's half-erect cock under the covers. He strokes along it slowly, and Remus gasps, arching into the touch. In the beginning, Severus had felt conflicted about it, but Remus had made it quite clear that he would have none of that. "We love each other. We'll have sex as long as we both like it. You know me well enough to be the judge of that, no matter what I can or can't say."

This night, there is no doubt that Remus likes it, and Severus tries to memorise every moment, every kiss and caress. Later, they fall asleep tightly wrapped around each other.

* * *

"Come, just a few more steps."

They're taking their afternoon walk, which these days is shorter than it used to be. But they still make it to the park and their favourite bench, where Severus is now leading Remus, one small, shuffling step after the other.

"There we are."

Carefully, Severus helps Remus sit down, then sits next to him with his arm loosely wrapped around Remus's waist. Remus won't look at him; he sits with his head bowed, looking down at his lap as he fidgets with the hem of his cardigan, again and again slowly twisting and stroking the fabric. His mouth is open, working mutely, small bubbles of spittle gathering in the corners. Severus gets out a clean handkerchief and gently wipes them away.

The wolf had taken over Remus's body for almost three weeks; it was only the day before yesterday that Remus got back to being himself. He hasn't truly been here, though – the mental transition is harder on him than even a year ago. If the wolf doesn't return, in a day or two he should begin reacting to Severus again.

Severus closes his eyes, breathing deeply. Like so often, he didn't sleep enough. Nine years into his illness, Remus doesn't sleep well; he is often restless at night and Severus will have to stay up with him. For a year and a half now, Teddy has been spending the night every Friday, taking care of Remus and giving Severus some respite. When he isn't the wolf, Remus accepts him willingly, speaking fondly of 'the polite young man' in the beginning.

"Severus."

The name is slurred, but intelligible. It's the only word Remus still knows, and Severus can't help asking himself for how much longer.

"Yes."

When he opens his eyes, he finds Remus smiling and pointing ahead. A cloud of leaves is swirling in front of them above the path, held in the air by consecutive gusts of wind. They are dancing in a whirlwind of autumn colours, glistening red and yellow in the thick rays of afternoon sunlight almost like stained glass. The sight reminds Severus of the church his father used to take him to as a child.

After a few moments, he turns from the leaves to instead watch Remus, whose expression of pure delight makes Severus's eyes sting. He looks alive and happy, so different from only minutes ago. When Severus tightens his hold, Remus looks at him, his eyes sparkling.

"It's beautiful, Lupin. Thank you for showing me."

They kiss before Remus turns back to watching the leaves, slowly, tenderly. It's their first kiss in weeks.

Bit by bit, the wind dies down over the next minutes. As the last leaves settle on the path, Remus shifts, resting his head on Severus's shoulder.

"Severus," he murmurs.

"Yes." Severus wraps his free hand around Remus's. "Yes. I'm here."

Remus smiles, and Severus closes his eyes again. The autumn sun is warming his face. On his shoulder, Remus is mumbling softly. Maybe the wolf will be back tomorrow. Maybe in a week's time, Remus will no longer know Severus's name. But now is now, and then is then. Right in this moment, Severus is content.


End file.
